Body Language
by scousemuz1k
Summary: Josh Cooper's thoughts during Sandblast.
1. Chapter 1

BODY LANGUAGE by scousemuzik

Chapter 1: He wondered.

They were being really kind. They were moving quietly around him, and speaking in hushed voices, as if he were some sort of nervous animal, who might spook at a sudden word or motion. They were partly right, Josh thought vaguely – he might just jump up and run, or break down into hysterical weeping, or scream, or something.

They had found him, the people who came running at the sound of the explosion; they had seen his injuries, and led him gently down from the small hump of earth that made up the side of the bunker. They had sat him down, just as gently, where he could no longer see the horror that lay on the singed grass beyond the sand. It didn't matter; he'd see it for ever. He wondered how he was going to tell Mom.

The paramedics arrived – model professionals, both. Josh observed their cautious, unthreatening body language, and heard how they told him carefully what they were about to do, before they did it. He appreciated it, even though he felt incapable of actually responding. He wondered how he was able to notice it, or anything else for that matter. Dad…..

A large camouflage painted vehicle rumbled to a halt, then another. You couldn't _not_ notice them; their engines were loud, and he hated the smell of diesel, and the movement of the soldiers pouring out of them was neither quiet nor gentle. The sight of them made him brace himself. As they set to work taping off the scene, Josh's eyes were still too full of tears, although he was determined that he wasn't going to shed them, to make out the rank of the female officer among them, but it was clear from her body language that she was in command. He wondered what the army had to do with it; he acknowledged that the thought was unreasonable, but he wanted NCIS. Dad was a _marine._

It seemed like only a moment later that he almost gave way to the inner chaos; he had to suppress a wild laugh as a large black sedan, intemperately driven, screamed to a halt, and the four people who piled out wore caps and jackets with the familiar white letters on them. He watched them, since it was better than thinking about how twenty minutes ago he'd had a father who loved him, and he wondered what they would do to catch the one who had taken him.

Josh would have blushed inwardly if he'd had the energy to; it was the woman on the team he noticed first, and he noticed her because she was beautiful - like he should be_ thinking _about such things right now. Her attitude suggested that she knew what she was doing, and he wondered why he thought that exotic Mediterranean looks should make him suppose otherwise. The whole team exuded confidence, and a tiny part of him came back to life.

He looked hard at the oldest of the three men, and felt a stirring of both hope and pain at once. He was obviously the team leader, and was just as obviously a marine. His body language as he headed straight for the leader of the army squad made him think of his dad again, and his stomach lurched. Dad… good looking, smiling, relaxed, giving out an air of complete ease; disguising so well how heavy his heart must be at leaving the family he loved, in order to serve his country. He would not make his wife and children feel any worse than they already did, there would be no tears until the very last minute when the car came to take him back to base prior to embarkation. Josh choked back a sob of despair, he_ wasn't _going to weep; but there would be so many tears now.

It was a tiny sound he made – he didn't even think it was audible to the EMTs, but one of the other two NCIS agents turned to face him, as his colleague strode away with his camera. Josh wondered just how good the man's hearing was. He didn't take in too much about the guy, except that he was tall, and younger than his boss – and then extraordinary eyes, greeny hazel, met his. He didn't approach, and he didn't speak, but the long, level look said clearly that he recognised the young man's pain, and didn't take it lightly. There was strength in that steady regard, and it somehow held Josh up. A strange understanding flashed momentarily between them – it wasn't just an ex-marine who would fight for justice for his dad. Josh nodded slightly, the other man nodded back, and then walked off to join his team.

The medics were about done; Josh organized his thoughts enough to thank them, and rose from his perch on the back door sill of the ambulance. He realised that he could see his father's body now; his mind recoiled and he tried not to look that way again.

Instead, he watched the investigators going about their work. He saw the tall man standing still and looking around, seeming to be doing no work at all, to the annoyance of the army grunts who were working their way across the green on their knees. The agent suddenly bent, picked up a handful of dried grass mowings, and tossed them into the air. He observed which way the breeze took them, and moved off purposefully in that direction. Was there a hint of a swagger to his walk, Josh wondered? A hint that the soldiers could sneer at him all they liked if they could do half as well as him? Another tiny part of him managed to smile.

The smile, a little twisted but valiant, actually got as far as his face a few minutes later when he heard the tall agent yell delightedly, and saw him hurrying back to his boss. As he seemed to be showing him and the lady officer, (colonel he now noted,) some evidence he'd discovered, the body language conversation of army and marine told its own story. Josh forgave the green-eyed agent for whooping in triumph while his dad lay there silent, if he'd found something to help nail his killer.

His eyes had been drawn unwillingly back to his dad; he shuddered and dragged them away again, and wondered what he should do next. There didn't seem to be anyone to tell him. His dad's truck that he'd promised to valet….he was shaken by a sudden wave of absolute misery and lost track of his thoughts altogether for a moment. What… oh yes, the truck. It was still in the car park, but the keys must be somewhere on…. Well, with the burns on his forearms he probably shouldn't drive anyway. He wanted to get back to his mom, but didn't want to leave his dad…. He didn't know who to ask, and realised he seemed to have been forgotten.

All at once he felt like an abandoned toddler. He knew it must be shock, but that didn't stop it from happening. Now he _did_ want to weep, and fought it, but he couldn't fight the roaring in his ears and the loss of sensation in his legs. He collapsed on the grass, and for another moment or two he wasn't sure of anything much, until the sound of voices and running feet worked their way into his fuzzy brain.

"….. the colonel's son. Apparently he was caddying for his father. Hasn't anyone noticed?"

"You'd think someone would care about the kid!"

"Don't call him a kid to his face, DiNozzo – he won't appreciate it."

A slight laugh. "Guess your right, boss."

"Can you deal with this? Take the car, I'll call for another one. Take the lad to the Navy Yard, we'll need his statement."

"On it, Boss – I'll take him home first if he wants to though, he might want to see the rest of his family."

"He does," Josh said thickly, aware that he was being lifted into a sitting position, and his head pushed gently forward.

"OK, Josh, is it? I'm Tony. D'you need a drink?"

As he raised his head, Josh saw it was the tall man, he'd known it would be, offering him a bottle of water. The green eyes once again offered strength, and concern, but however heartbroken he was, Josh was relieved to see not the slightest encouragement to wallow in self-pity. He wondered how this man understood so much.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Statement

I forgot the disclaimer before the 1st chapter:- I own nothing but a piano. I wish I owned an AC Cobra. And NCIS.

The ride home was almost silent. Josh felt almost ashamed of his need for the tall man's presence, and silently dubbed him Special Agent Tony, underlined and with quotation marks. DiNozzo, his boss had called him. So, Italian. The man who thinks he's a Ferrari. Unfair, he admitted, the guy was being as helpful as he could, in an understated way: but he was high, wide and handsome, more like a TV cop, and if it hadn't been for that first strong, understanding look, Josh knew he'd have not taken him seriously. After asking Josh for his address, he'd put it into his SatNav, and settled down to driving in a calm and unhurried manner.

Josh thought about that, and supposed that it was so he wouldn't have to navigate if he didn't feel like talking, and his regard for Special Agent Tony went up another notch. He really _didn't_ feel like talking. He was vaguely aware that the agent glanced at him from time to time, without making a big deal of it, and he was vaguely aware of the passage of time and distance, but most of his attention focussed on the blood on his clothes and the bandages on his arms.

"I suppose I ought to change my clothes," he said suddenly, a little surprised to realise he'd voiced his thought out loud.

"I suppose you should," his companion agreed gravely. "Do whatever you need to, Josh." Nothing more was said until they arrived at the Cooper residence.

There was a large official car outside, and a large marine corporal standing guard at the front door; his easy stance was completely unthreatening, and yet he managed to discourage the curious without doing a thing. Josh was silently grateful for that, and realised that his father's CO must be there. Again, he found himself thinking aloud.

"I won't need to tell Mom," he said, and then wasn't surprised when the big agent's reply showed he'd picked up on the edge to his tone.

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked curiously. "I mean… you couldn't have been looking forward to it."

"I was dreading it," Josh said honestly. "But it should have been me, not a stranger – I mean, not that the general's a stranger, but I should have told Mom, I'm her son and I should have been there for her and my sister, she's only twelve and I – " As his tongue was running away in confusion his feet had come to a stop of their own accord, halfway up the steps to the door. His tongue gave up a moment later, and he stood for a few wavering seconds, feeling the same total lack of direction he had already experienced earlier. He did _not_ want to go through that door and face what lay beyond it.

Special Agent Tony was behind him, one step lower, and he said neutrally, "You'll need to look out for them, Josh. The first thing they're going to see is the blood, and the bandages. You'll need to let them know you're OK."

And there it was. The direction he needed; something to concentrate on. He took a couple more steps and pushed the door aside.

----------------------------------------------

Sitting alone in the small conference room some time later, waiting for Special Agent Tony to return from wherever he'd vanished to, Josh pulled a wry face. Was there nothing Mr. Perfect couldn't do? His sister, Claire, sitting curled up on the sofa, hair messed, face pink and tear-streaked, and clinging to her mother as if she were now the only constant in her entire universe, had nevertheless blushed and managed a tremulous half smile when the agent had brought her a glass of water. Nadia, their redoubtable Romanian neighbour, who had moved in and quietly taken over as good friends do when needed, had openly admired him when he wasn't looking. Even his mother had given the guy a long, hard, assessing look, and had seemed to be satisfied with what she saw.

The wry expression was still on Josh's face when the tall agent came back into the room. He put a power bar and a bottle of water with a plastic cup inverted over the top on the table by Josh's elbow.

Josh accepted it with a silent nod of thanks, realising that he actually was hungry. Special Agent Tony put his hat down on the table and sat patiently making notes while he ate and drank, disposed of the wrappings for him, and sat down again, giving the young man a close, considering look.

"So, Josh, D'you feel up to this?"

Josh didn't, but he knew he had to. His dad needed him to, but he still found it difficult to get started. He retreated into platitudes, knew he was being stupid, and said so, the anger in his tone directed inwards. The man opposite him remained calm, and Josh felt an inexplicable desire to push. When he asked the agent to tell him it had all been a trick, that his dad was still alive, half of him wanted to hear just that; the other half was poised to lay into him if he dared to come out with the conventional "I wish I could" sort of garbage. He lifted his head and met those compelling hazel eyes in a long, pleading glance. Don't disappoint me….

The agent still took him by surprise. There was no mushy sentiment; nowhere to channel his bitter feelings, just the same soft-spoken understanding, and the offer to leave things until tomorrow. Josh's anger deflated instantly, and he was relieved that he hadn't been given the chance to take his pain out on someone who didn't actually deserve it.

His astonishment was complete when he found he'd not only been led to open up about Princeton, but also about his guilt at not mentioning the spider's web, and his misery at the thought that he should have done something. By deftly dropping in his own platitude at that point, the NCIS Agent had given Josh a chance to let off steam; by stringing out a whole line of them, with the slickest of comic timing, he'd given him a chance to release some tension through humour, however grudging.

Josh was surprised, however, at Spec – no, he wasn't going to think of him like that any more, hadn't he just thought that he deserved a bit better? He didn't feel on first name terms with the agent yet, but there was nothing to stop him thinking it. Yes, he was surprised at Tony's reaction when he suggested that those who hunted terrorists needed more help. He suddenly found himself sitting opposite a big brother, who was sternly and earnestly telling him to think about his career, and leave the investigating to the men.

"You just focus on Princeton, we'll find the one who killed your father."

"He doesn't mean it like that," Josh told himself, but it was the first time that the Special Agent had got it wrong. The yo-yo swing of Josh's emotions hurtled off in the other direction, and no matter how much part of him was shouting "stop", the other part was shouting "I'm not a kid", and he lashed out.

"Yeah, like you found bin Laden!"

Tony looked at him for a second, then his eyes slid away momentarily in something like pain. When he looked back, his expression was calm enough, and bore no rancour at the outburst, but as he held Josh's gaze, the younger man heard a clearly as if he'd said it aloud, "_I _wasn't looking for him."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks so much to all the kind reviewers who've encouraged a new writer to continue!**

**Don't know if I should change the rating for two minor swear words, both from the script. K+? Please let me know if I should have done – I'm still learning.**

BODY LANGUAGE

Chapter 3: Coltrane and Confrontations

The floor of his room was hard, even with the carpet, but Josh was happier sitting there where he could rest his head against the side of his bed whenever it got too heavy to hold up. The glossy magazine in his hand could have been toilet paper for all the sense he could make of his attempts to read it. The warm, chocolate-brown velvet notes of a virtuoso jazz man hardly got past his eardrums, let alone as far as his brain.

He'd left his door open in case his mom or Claire wanted to come in, although he didn't think they would.

He sighed deeply. He hadn't meant to make his mom cry again, and now Claire wasn't speaking to him either.

"You don't _care_ about us," she'd screamed at him, with almost-teenage vehemence. "You just want to go off and get yourself killed, and leave us with nobody!" The slam of her bedroom door must have been heard down the street.

His mother was gentler, but the sentiments were the same. "You can't turn your back on everything you've worked for, Josh. Not for a snap decision that you're making in anger. Son, you _know_ how good you've got to be to even get into Princeton. What would – "

"If you're going to ask me what Dad would say, just… just _don't._ None of it matters any more! He's gone, and I'm going to take his place." He couldn't really believe he'd said that, it sounded so melodramatic, but he was caught in his own spiralling misery, and couldn't stop. "Don't cry, Mom, please don't cry…." He couldn't bear to look at the tears on her cheeks. "Nothing matters now except getting the ones who killed him."

Her sad, soft voice had followed him as he fled from the room. "It won't bring him back, Josh."

Night was draping the world outside the window in its black satin, muting sound and activity, ending this awful day and bringing peace everywhere but in the Cooper household. Josh sat by his bed in a pool of pain, guilt and resentment, until a soft knock at his door broke into his thoughts. He almost snapped, "For heaven's sake, Claire, it's open," but he'd cooled down at least enough not to be needlessly unkind.

He looked up, just as a quiet voice said, "Shouldn't you be packing?"

Josh looked away again, to cover his embarrassment. For that matter, he didn't want the big man standing casually in the doorway to see his guilt or his confusion either.

If there was one person in the world he wanted to see just then it was Tony DiNozzo. If there was one person he absolutely _didn't_ want to see…. it was Tony DiNozzo. The one person who could lift him and give him strength, who wouldn't judge him like he was judging himself for how he'd spoken to Mom and Claire, was also the person who'd tried already once today to discourage him from what he very clearly thought was a bad idea.

Josh groaned inwardly. He didn't want to be told, by someone whose opinion he'd come to respect, (how _was_ that anyway?) that he was behaving like a child. He was quite sure he wasn't; his plan may have been a complete about face from everything his life had been up to this point, but wasn't that what today had been? How could anything ever be the same?

He wouldn't turn to face his visitor, but glanced over his shoulder. His voice, when he found it, came out harsh and grudging. "My mom called you, didn't she?" When Tony simply smiled and pulled a wry face, obviously not wanting to tell any tales, Josh looked at him properly for a moment. "What did she tell you?"

He braced himself and prepared for a lecture, prepared to fight his corner, but wondering how he could against someone as subtle and unpredictable as Special Agent DiNozzo.

All Tony said, still in that soft, level voice, was, "That you're not going to Princeton."

"She's right," Josh said shortly. He turned away again, his body language yelling "Go away," and pointedly started pretending to read again.

It didn't happen, of course, and he was aware of the agent taking a couple of steps into the room, and he waited tensely, while only the purring notes of the saxophone filled the air.

"Coltrane…." Tony drawled appreciatively. "Wouldn't have figured you for a jazz man…." the tiniest pause, then inviting him to respond, "….Josh."

Well, he'd said the guy was subtle. The dam broke, and he found himself explaining about Sundays, his dad's deployment, and playing the albums to be close to him in his absence. He saw Tony studying the photo of his father in uniform as he spoke, then he gave Josh a long, understanding look that the younger man couldn't bear to hold. He turned his head away, eyes unfocussed and full of pain.

After a while he went on. "Next thing I knew he was home, and we were listening together." His eyes were once again full of tears that he wouldn't shed.

Tony said, "I know this must be a pretty difficult time for you…"

It was the sort of platitude they'd sparked over earlier in the day, when Tony's clowning had told him that banalities are fine if they help – but now Josh was having none of it. He exploded to his feet and across to the record player, snapping the music off with a vicious twist of his wrist, then strode as far away from the agent as the room would allow.

"If you're here to talk me out of joining the marines – "

Tony stepped in smoothly. "I would never talk anyone out of joining the corps – it's an honour to serve your country."

Josh folded his arms and glared. "Good. Glad that's settled." He might have known it wasn't. The next question was delivered with wide-eyed innocence, as if Tony didn't actually know the answer.

"I would ask one question though – what's the big rush?"

As soon as Josh began to speak he realised he'd fallen for the trick again; he'd have admired how Special Agent Tony - (Aaaagh, _he'_s back) kept on making him open up, if he hadn't felt so _mad_. He knew he'd been played, but he didn't try to stop.

"You know what? You're probably right. I should wait a little longer. What's a few more dead colonels?"

"I understand that you're pissed off."

"Pissed off?" He was in Tony's face, and Tony was taking it. "_They killed my Dad! How would you feel?"_

The tall agent remained unruffled. "I would want justice – but you're looking for revenge?" He ended on a questioning note; and Josh suddenly realised he was being asked to consider his motives carefully. Even as he began to waver, he asserted confidently, "You're damn right! An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth…."

He was wondering if he actually believed that himself when Tony took the wind out of his sails completely. "Which just leaves you with a bunch of toothless blind people…"

The goofball comedian from that afternoon was back, but Josh wasn't quite prepared to go along with it just yet. He sneered, " So you'd just make a joke and do nothing."

There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere in the room; tiny, elusive, _huge._

The goofball was gone as if he'd never existed; Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's hazel eyes held Josh transfixed for a moment. "I would do whatever it takes," he said. The barest stress on "do", and the slightest pause after, but Josh was looking at a different being; a dangerous creature with a power and a will to spend itself for good such as he'd never imagined. Josh's mouth opened slightly, and his breath caught in his throat. And then it was simply Tony; the agent was turning to leave, as if aware that he'd shown more of himself than he'd intended. "But there is a right time, a right place," he said, "And this is not the time – not for you."

He disappeared, and left Josh to slump down on his bed, staring unseeingly at the wall.


	4. Chapter 4

BODY LANGUAGE

Chapter 4: Desert Camo v. Jello Shots

He'd hugged Claire and apologised to his mom before turning in last night. His sister looked so tired he thought she'd collapse, but he was more worried about Mom. He didn't think she'd sleep much, alone in that bed, and he wasn't surprised when, on one of several small-hours prowls around the house, he'd seen a light under the guest-room door.

Josh had marvelled at her wisdom and restraint when she _hadn't_ asked about his visit from Tony DiNozzo; for his part he couldn't, yet, tell her what she wanted to hear, although he'd been wavering even before the agent had said the word revenge. He'd settled for saying that everything would be all right, and pretended to go to bed himself. By about half-past four, when he'd made his last patrol, everything was clear, and he caught a few hours of reasonable sleep. Well, he presumed it had been reasonable when he woke up around seven, since he couldn't actually remember any nightmares.

He was never one for packing until the last minute, but he'd made life even more difficult for himself this time. When he'd come back from giving his statement, he'd been mad because DiNozzo hadn't driven him. It was unreasonable, he knew very well, for the agent and his team catching evil bombers was the priority, but Josh had _needed_ him.

So, in a fit of fury, and determination to do what _he_ thought right, and not what he was being _told_ to do, he'd torn up the lists he'd made of things to take to Princeton, and thrown them in the trash.

Here he was then, in the early morning of the day he was supposed to be there, writing the lists again, and serves you right, he told himself, as that small, wry smile that had managed to establish itself somehow, surfaced again.

He'd managed breakfast, (sitting in the kitchen with Mom, and more to make sure _she_ ate than anything,) and galvanising coffee, but he still felt woolly-headed, so he opened his window. The pleasant smell of morning grass and cold, fresh air helped as he'd hoped it would.

It didn't seem long before a sound drifted in through the window, that made him put his pen down and look out. A beautiful classic car, with a husky growl for a voice, was drawing to a halt outside. He wasn't that much of a car buff, he liked girls, baseball and karting, but he reckoned that the Ford Mustang convertible was from the 1960s. A classy American lady, dressed in British Racing Green. He was surprised that the person who stepped out of it would call at such a time, but not who that person was. It was just the sort of car he would have imagined he'd drive. Inside, he couldn't have been more pleased to see someone. Oh, unless, of course, his dad had just appeared. Spirits sinking again, Josh picked up his pen, and tried to look busy and nonchalant.

His mom opened the door, on the end of a whispered conversation, and with a quiet "Thankyou", Special Agent DiNozzo stepped into the room. He was immaculately dressed, and looked as if he'd had a good, refreshing ten hours sleep, although Josh knew that was impossible.

"Hey, looks like you've made up your mind."

Don't sound so satisfied. You were right, OK? Not that I'm going to tell you just yet.

"Special agent - slash - mind-reader," he growled back.

It was impossible to offend this guy; but then, he'd already realised that, otherwise he wouldn't do it.

"Well, when you're good you're good…. But I wasn't reading your mind, I was reading your body language. You're relaxed; the struggle is over. You've made up your mind."

"Special agent – slash – Doctor Phil." Josh stood up, and walked over to the closet. He lifted out a bag, and began to place random items inside. He wanted Tony to _ask_, dammit, and sure enough, the agent obliged.

"So, what's it to be, Josh? Six a.m. wake-ups and desert camo - " He walked over to the chair Josh had just occupied and sat down - "Or all night frat parties and jello shots with co-eds?"

Josh couldn't resist stringing things out just a little longer.

"I decided to do what my Dad always wanted me to do," he said neutrally, and then felt guilty when it seemed as if the big man folded into the small chair had got the wrong idea.

"Ah," he said in soft disappointment, "I'm guessing he wasn't a big fan of jello shots." He lowered his eyes, and did that aimless thing with a discarded magazine that Josh recognised since he'd been doing it himself just yesterday. Enough, already.

"No," long pause, "But he was a big fan of Princeton."

The special agent's head jerked up, his hazel eyes wide with surprise, and for a moment he didn't speak. Josh wondered if he realised he'd been the one played for a change, then wondered why he was even _wondering._

A delighted smile spread across Tony's face. "So, you're going back to school!"

"Then Georgetown law, then into naval intelligence."

The smile became a laugh. "That's good. Could use the help." He stood up, and suddenly the humour dropped away. There was that something different in the brilliant eyes, that Josh had seen twice now, but had only really registered last night.

"Listen, I keep my word, Josh. We're going to find the person who did this."

"I know, Tony." Raised eyebrows, and those eyes again. "It's in your body language."

Special Agent DiNozzo glanced down at himself briefly, then looked up again. He began to move towards the door, with a muttered "Hmph". Josh was aware that he was turning his face away in order to disguise the pleased smile on it. What he didn't know, and probably never would, was that the smile was not pleasure that he'd won – it had never been his intention that his will would prevail. It was pure happiness that the kid had _at last_ used his name.

With a grin over his shoulder and a sketched wave he was gone, leaving the room much, much emptier.

**AN: I wasn't expecting to have another chapter up so soon, but** **it seems it's easier when you're not writing angst! Only an epilogue to go now.**

**Once again, thank you very much for kind reviews.**


	5. Chapter 5

**This is probably about the same length as the other chapters, but I'm calling it an epilogue as it takes place some time after the end of the episode.**

BODY LANGUAGE

Epilogue: Princeton

A warm mid-morning in the fall of the year; the autumnal colours drifting down from the trees to the grass of McCosh courtyard, where a young couple sat, their heads close together, bent over a lap-top. The girl, pretty, vital, dark haired and grey eyed, looked anxious. The young man was smiling. Their voices carried on the breeze.

"No," Josh Cooper was saying. "I don't see why you shouldn't put a bit of humour into an essay. Lots of history was funny!"

"I don't know if Dr. Wilkie will see the joke!

Josh took the girl's hand, and squeezed reassuringly. "Well, if you mean that you don't think he will, leave it out. If you don't know, and you think he's a nice guy, leave it in. If he's OK, he'll either tell you no jokes in future, without telling you off, (she looked at him in alarm,) "_Or,_ you'll give him a laugh."

"Mmm, all right, it stays." She handed him a pad. "Would you read out this list to me when I ask?"

"Sure," he said amiably, and fell to studying her as she turned back to rattle her keyboard.

He was lucky, he knew. He'd gone to Princeton thinking it would be a great way to meet lots of girls, but instead he'd met Anne-Marie on the first day, and really didn't want to meet anyone else. He'd been at one of those welcome lunches that most people dread, but everyone feels they have to attend; he'd been picking at a plate of fancy lord-knows-what, and thinking about his dad. He'd been worried about Mom too, although she'd said "Go on, shoo – I'll be fine." She'd smiled as she drove away, but he didn't feel particularly reassured.

A voice beside him said, concernedly, "Does that hurt?"

"Er, I'm sorry, what d'you mean?"

The girl beside him pointed to the wounds on his face, and the bandages almost hidden by his cuffs. "They look painful. And you look in pain."

He could have taken offence at her curiosity, but he didn't. "No," he said honestly, "It's my thoughts that hurt." They looked at each other, astonished at how their conversation had somehow started in the middle. Josh managed a small smile. "I'll tell you some time," he said, "But not right now. I'm Josh Cooper."

"Anne-Marie Devereux. Pleased to meet you, Josh Cooper."

He smiled at the memory, and studied her as she worked. It was fortunate that they weren't in the same faculty; and they'd made a pact early on to work in the evenings alone or in the library if they were together – or nothing would ever get done, and they both wanted to do well.

She hadn't an unkind bone in her body, and she was the most healing creature he'd ever known. She always seemed to know when he was grieving, and always seemed to be there. He wasn't sure about chucking the 'L' word about so soon, but he thought this must be what it felt like. He simply wanted to be wherever she was.

She felt his eyes on her, and looked up. "What?"

"Can't I look at you? I like looking at you."

Anne-Marie laughed, and pecked his cheek. They smiled together and bumped foreheads. Before she could speak, however, a voice called out, "Ooh, incident alert! Incident alert!"

Elaine and Caroline, the terrible twins of the History Department, were hurrying towards them, bringing lunch in carry-out bags.

"If we wanted an incident, and I'm not saying we don't," Josh began, "We wouldn't have it in the middle of McCosh!" Anne-Marie finished for him.

Their two friends dropped themselves down on the grass and passed the food around, and for a while there was only happy chatter and the sound of munching, until Elaine sat bolt upright.

"Wasp?" Caroline asked. Elaine didn't reply directly. The sound that came out of her mouth could never have been described.

"Awwooo!" She spluttered crumbs. "Whatever course _he_ teaches, I'm signing up. Right now." They all looked to see what, or_ who_ had caught her attention.

A tall, long-legged man, smartly dressed in dark cords and a chestnut brown leather jacket, had emerged from the shadow of the stately arch of McCosh Hall, and was standing looking round him. To the astonishment of the three girls, (especially the terrible twins, who were looking at the handsome newcomer as if he were their next meal,) Josh leapt to his feet with a delighted yell, scattering papers and sandwiches.

"Tony!"

He ran across the courtyard as Tony turned towards the sound of his voice, and then skidded to a halt, suddenly awkward. It probably wasn't appropriate to hug another man, even if you _were_ pleased to see him – and then he realised it must be, because the big guy hugged him, so he reciprocated.

"Hey…. What are you doing here? I mean, it's good to see you, really good – but what – I mean why – how did you find me?"

"Slow down! What am I doing here? I'm visiting you. It's good to see you too. Why – I'll explain in a minute. How did I find you? Well, I went to your dorm and asked, and your friends told me _exactly_ where you'd be, and who you'd be with."

Josh looked shy. "Yeah," he agreed. "Come and meet Anne-Marie. And the twins."

"Twins? They don't look– "

"That's 'cus they're not. But they're inseparable, and their hobbies are practical jokes and chasing boys. Ergo, terrible twins."

"Ergo? Ah, well, you're an educated man now."

"Weren't you a college boy Tony? I bet you were. I bet you were a jock."

"Right in one. Ohio State – I was a Buckeye…. Good morning, ladies."

Without hesitation the agent curled up his long frame to sit on the grass beside them, clearly not _so _fond of himself that he wouldn't risk grass stains on his pants. Josh silently observed however, that he couldn't help preening very slightly at the looks Elaine was giving him. When his jacket flapped open, the two pretty co-eds eyes grew wide at the sight of the badge and the mean looking Sig revealed on his belt.

Josh made the introductions, presenting Tony with his full name, title and agency, just to impress the twins a little more. When the special agent shook Anne-Marie's hand, there was a softer edge to his smile. "He _likes_ her," Josh thought happily.

After a while he asked again, "So what _are_ you doing here, Tony? I mean, it's great that you're here, but they'd never give you a day off just to come visit me."

Tony grew serious. "Well, they would if I asked for it," he said, "But I didn't need to. Er, ladies, may I borrow Josh for a moment? I have some things for him from home, I left them in my car. He won't be long."

Josh's senses went on alert. Clearly Tony wanted to speak to him alone, and his stomach lurched, as the special agent began to explain.

"I would have come anyway, once I had permission from your mom," he said.

"My mom?"

"Yes. I'm on my way to Trenton to pick up a witness – poor guy's got two seriously black eyes and he can't drive at the moment. So, never one to miss an opportunity, I said I'd fetch him. I know my boss guessed I'd come here first, but he didn't say anything. He's OK like that, actually."

Josh nodded his understanding. "So, you went to see my mom. How is she?"

"She's a marine wife, Josh – as brave as they come. She dresses smart, and puts a smile on, and she's doing all right, but have _you_ stopped grieving yet? Nadia keeps an eye on her, and I know the Corps is looking after her and Claire. She's sent you some stuff, and some cash I think, and I waited while she wrote you a quick letter."

He drew a deep breath. "Here it comes," Josh thought.

"The thing is, Josh, I went to see your mom to tell her something. And to see if she wanted to tell you herself, and, well, really to ask her permission 'cus _I_ wanted to tell you."

Josh drew his breath in sharply. "You got the guy who killed Dad," he said softly. They stopped, a few feet from Tony's car.

"Well, not so much got," the agent said softly. Josh couldn't speak, and Tony went on, "His name was Sharif. We knew that much, but it took us six weeks to find him. He had this scheme to poison a lot of people with toxic money. It's a long story, but one of the people he tried to kill was my boss."

"He didn't do it, did he?"

"Oh, no."

"So you killed him?"

The big agent's face broke into a grin, and the mood lightened. "Oh, no," he said again. "I wish I could claim the credit. D'you remember the fierce lady colonel?"

"Yeah," Josh said, smiling in his turn. "I thought she and your boss were going to kill each other."

Tony's grin grew wider, if that were possible, and he gave Josh an odd look. The young man gasped. "Oh… they didn't kill each other, they…." He couldn't find the words.

"Right," his friend told him. "They seem to have a thing going…. And the good lady put three bullets in Sharif."

Josh was silent for several minutes. Tony reached into his car, pulled out a box, and stood it on the hood while he waited for the younger man to collect himself.

"So," Josh said finally, "You were right. Justice, not revenge."

"Doesn't matter whether I was right or not, Josh. I just wanted _you _to be."

"You're a good man, Tony DiNozzo." The agent blinked, and said nothing for a few seconds.

"So are you, Josh." He handed him the box. "You have a great life ahead of you; you'll do a lot of good one day." He dropped a card into the box. "Keep in touch. Results 'nd all that. My number's on there. If you ever need me, just call. I'll be there. Right?"

Josh gulped. "Right."

Tony squeezed his shoulder, and dropped into his car. "See you, Josh," and off he roared. Josh stood holding the box and feeling strange. He fished the card out, intending to put it somewhere safe, but stood looking at it blankly for a while, until he heard Anne-Marie's voice behind him.

"Josh? Are you OK?"

He turned to face her and smiled. "I'm fine," he said, and meant it.

His girl looked at the card in his hand. "What's that you have there?" she asked with good-natured female curiosity.

Josh looked down at it. "A friend for life," he said thoughtfully.

The End


End file.
